Milk Wanted
by 221Bookaholic
Summary: There is a disturbing lack of milk at Baker Street. How long will Sherlock and John survive without it?


Milk Wanted

**Day 1 without milk**

After an _extremely_ long day at the clinic, John finally headed up the stairs of his flat, exhausted. He walked into the living room and flopped on the couch, hoping his night would end there. But that was when Sherlock spoke up.

"John, did you bring the milk?" He inquired.

"No, I didn't bring the milk, Sherlock. You never asked me to."

"Of course I did, John. I asked you about an hour ago. We ran out last night when I was doing one of my experiments." John sighed at this. Of course he did. _Why am I not surprised. _He thought.

"I'm not getting any milk tonight, Sherlock. You'll have to do without it. It's late, and I've had a long day." Sherlock pouted at this, and opened his mouth to object, but John stopped him. "No, Sherlock. If you want it so bad, you'll have to get it on your own."

"Ugh, shopping. Shopping is boring. Too mundane. That's why I leave you to do it."

"Nope. This is not my problem tonight. And I've gotten enough weird looks from the row that I had with the machine. Imagine me showing up in the middle of the night just for milk that you can use for another experiment."

"But John, this is important!"

"Oh well, Sherlock. It will have to wait." He huffed as he headed upstairs to his room. _If we had a store just for milk in the flat right next to us, _He thought._ I wouldn't wish for anything more in life._ And with that he fell on his bed, gratefully accepting the next few hours of sleep he would receive.

**Day 2 without milk**

"John! Hurry! Lestrade has an actually very interesting case for us, and you're going to miss it!" John groaned as he sat up, looking at the clock on his bedside. _God Sherlock, it's only four in the morning!_ He got dressed the quickest he could in his half-asleep state, and headed down to meet Sherlock.

"Seriously John, how do you get this much sleep? You can truly amaze me sometimes. Ah, well. It doesn't matter; we have more important matters to attend to! There was a quadruple murder where all the victims had a missing limb! This shouldn't be too hard though; the trademark murderers always get caught easier. And all in the same neighborhood as well! This narrows it down considerably; the killer went in a distinct pattern, with the addresses, but not the victims. Oh, he's a clever one, isn't he. Trying to steer off the Yard, obviously. Although it isn't too hard…" And then Sherlock was lost in his own thoughts as they headed to the crime scene.

Of course, Sherlock already had most of the case solved before they had even gotten there. As Sherlock examined the bodies, taking note of the distinct pattern of the severed limbs, he had deduced all of the victims' lives and had solved the case within minutes. But of course, not without John's occasional, "Fantastic!" or "That's brilliant!" in between.

"John, grab a cab. I'll meet you at the morgue; Molly has the victim's files there. We need to check to make sure there were no connections between the four victims."

"Alright, wait Sherlock, wait, what are you doing?" John asked him in return. But Sherlock already walked back into the victim's house, ignoring him. So he called the cab, and headed for the morgue.

"Lestrade!" Sherlock shouted. "Quick, check the victim's kitchen! See if she has any milk!"

"What? Sherlock, why?! What does this have to do with the case?"

"Nothing," Sherlock replied impatiently. "We are just out of milk at our flat. Do keep up; you need to earn your title somehow." Lestrade sighed, and headed into the kitchen, checking the woman's refrigerator.

"Nope. No milk. Looks like you're either going to have to get it yourself, or get John to get it, Sherlock. Honestly, why is this such a problem?" Sherlock groaned, obviously annoyed.

"Why does everyone expect me to buy the milk myself? Lestrade, I have said this _way_ too many times. Shopping is boring, and I have better things to do. Now if you are done asking me these meaningless and completely obvious questions, I have some files awaiting me at the morgue." And with that, Sherlock left the crime scene and headed for the morgue.

At the morgue, after two minutes of looking at the files and searching his Mind Palace, Sherlock had already solved the case.

"John, hand me my phone. I need to call Lestrade. I know where the next murder is going to be."

"Alright, where is it?" After earning no response from Sherlock, and looking around the room for several moments, John sighed and headed beside Sherlock. His own deductions were correct as he pulled the phone out of Sherlock's coat pocket and handed it to him. After the phone rang for several moments, Lestrade finally picked up.

"Ah, Lestrade. Took you long enough. My assumptions were correct as the victims had no correction, but it was the addresses. The next murder is going to be at 334C Bernese Ct. Set up a perimeter around that area, and the murderer will show up most likely anytime around 10 to 11 tonight." John could practically see the shock on Lestrade's face as he heard Sherlock's deduction. "Of course I am right, by now you should know better than to doubt my deductions. Yes, yes I know. What would you do without me." He said as he hung up.

"Sherlock…" John scolded at him.

"What? Not good?" He replied innocently. John shook his head disapprovingly.

"A bit not good, yeah."

"Oh well, I think he is used to it by now. Anyways, he wouldn't have that problem if the Yarders had the capability to think at the crime scenes." John sighed, not bothering to comment on this, as they headed out of the morgue.

"Look John, we have a few hours. You should get the milk now while you still can."

"Sherlock, why is the milk so important?! If you need it that bad, get it yourself!"

"Fine John, if you insist. I'll see you at the flat in around an hour." And with that, Sherlock got himself a cab, and left to get the milk.

John stood there, completely bewildered. _Did Sherlock, of all people, just agree to go to buy the milk?! _But he didn't question it as much as he should have, as he headed to Baker Street; happy to be relieved of his milk duties.


End file.
